Coming Altered: Welcome to Carson, Book Four Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  More Books by Renee Harless

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Peek of Coming Unraveled

  Welcome to Carson, Book Four

  By Renee Harless

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2017 Renee Harless

  This work is one of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. All trademarked items included in this novel have been recognized as so by the author. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. If you find yourself in possession of a pirated copy reach out to the author or legal action can be taken.

  The author recognizes all musicians and artists mentioned in this novel and any characteristics described as such are deemed in fiction.

  All rights reserved

  Amazon Edition

  Cover Design and Formatting: Porcelain Paper Designs

  Photographs: Shutterstock, Pixabay

  Website: www.reneeharless.com

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  Instagram: @Renee_Harless

  Twitter: @Renee_Harless

  Snapchat: @Renee_Harless

  Amazon: www.amazon.com/Renee-Harless/e/B00VAHGAWE

  Bookbub: www.bookbub.com/authors/renee-harless

  Newsletter: www.reneeharless.com/newsletter

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  More Books by Renee Harless

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Peek of Coming Unraveled

  HE DARKNESS OF THE room wraps around Cassidy, cloaking her in its presence. The smoke, though unappealing to her, engulfs her in a bubble of solemnness and calm. Her own private solitude where no one knows her and no one cares.

  This is how Cassidy prefers things. Though she loves her job, the public side of her career has her wanting to scurry off to the hills. She will never understand how people, celebrities, can tolerate being in the public eye. It is disdainful.

  Cassidy tucks herself against the corner of the booth hoping to sink further into its cheap vinyl. She found this little piece of heaven tucked away on the outskirts of New York City and she frequented it whenever she was in town, just like now. No one pays her any attention or recognizes her for that matter. She is just a random woman that orders a whiskey or two and keeps to herself. She doesn’t cause trouble or bring any with her. She is safe here and that is why it has become her little haven when the world becomes too much. There is only one other place that makes her feel the same way and that place is home – a place she tries her best not to rush off to whenever she finds herself overwhelmed.

  Her family believes that she is this level headed, only slightly neurotic, grown woman capable of taking care of herself. And in most instances, they aren’t wrong. Cassidy has watched as her business has thrived and she found herself along for the ride. Only now when the ride becomes overwhelming does she find herself needing a break.

  The waitress with a voice about five octaves too low for a woman of her stature, most likely due to the smoke in the air, brings Cassidy another whiskey and sets it on the table with a clink and asks if she needs anything else.

  “No, I’m good. Thank you,” Cassidy replies and then watches as the woman heads over to a table filled with older men looking like they just crawled away from their seedy jobs.

  Cassidy doesn’t allow her gaze to settle for too long, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Instead she grabs her phone and reads through the reviews of her latest fashion show as they start to trickle in through the media.

  She is becoming a household name in the fashion world and held a headlining spot in the infamous New York Fashion Week. Her designs and selection of models brought her attention and the press was beginning to swarm like the vultures that they are. Fortunately, for Cassidy, she knows her way around the city and is able to outsmart them. The moment she walked the catwalk to end her show she jumped into a cab waiting in the back of the pavilion and she made her way here to her little paradise of wood and smoke.

  Cassidy Does It Again!

  Headliner, Cassidy, Shuts Down New York Fashion Week!

  Cassidy Offers A Refreshing Experience During New York Fashion Week.

  She smiles inwardly as she reads each of the articles and cringes when she notices that more than most inquire about her background – something she keeps so tightly wrapped inside her she prays that she’s able to keep it private. It’s not the first time the press has inquired about her private and personal life. The bottom feeders try to dig up whatever they can about her. Luckily, she made a smart move and followed the likes of Beyoncé and Madonna by only using her first name. Not even her agent knows her last name and she plans on keeping it that way.

  Cassidy sets her phone down on the table and takes another swig of her drink, savoring the oaky taste as it trickles down her throat.

  “Can I get you anything to eat?” the waitress asks as she stops by Cassidy’s table once more, almost looking relieved to be serving a female.

  Cassidy looked up at the woman and inspects her hesitant gaze.

  “Actually,” Cassidy says with a smile. “I’d love an appetizer to snack on. What would you recommend?”

  “Oh, well,” the woman who seems close to Cassidy’s age says as she tucks a loose piece of ashy brown hair behind her ear. “I’d recommend the cheese fries. It’s one of the things I can make for you myself,” she adds as if she realizes that the location is below most people’s standards.

  “Mmm, that sounds good. I’ll take an order please. And does the TV there in the corner work?”

  “It does. I can get it turned on. Anything in particular?”

  “That would be great. Thank you. Maybe just some sports channel. I don’t want to upset everyone else in here,” Cassidy adds as she realizes that the place has begun to fill up with more men all looking like they’ve left their heavy-handed jobs.

  “Sure thing. And I’ll get these right out to you,” the woman adds with a friendly smile that Cassidy is sure she keeps reserved for times she isn’t on the premises.

  She watches as the petite woman walks over to the area behind the bar and grabs the remote, flicking on the television and drawing a bit of unwanted attention to herself. Cassidy stares at the dimly lit screen as it blips between different images. Startling her, the television pauses on an entertainment channel as a video of her walking across the catwalk with two of her favorite models comes front and center. Her breath hitches and she looks away from the screen and watches as the waitress’ attention is taken away from the remote to that of two new arrivals at the bar requesting a drink.

  Cassidy can feel a
s the sweat begins to pool at the base of her neck as she slinks farther into the corner of the booth, weary of the eyes scoping across the room.

  Please, no. Don’t recognize me. Don’t take me away from this solitude, she thinks to herself.

  After what seems like hours, but is truly a few minutes, the waitress is able to make her way back to the remote and sets the station to ESPN. Cassidy breathes a sigh of relief and reaches for her drink before soothing the dryness of her mouth with another sip.

  Deciding to take a chance to relax, Cassidy places her back against the cool wood of the wall, not even caring that the smell of smoke is going to be so far ingrained in her clothing that she will most likely never be able to get rid of the scent. She turns fully and props her feet on the cushion of the bench and grabs her phone, intent to do some catching up with her family. In her line of work, she quickly learned that it was best to keep everyone at a distance, they can’t hurt you if they are kept at an arm’s length. So, Cassidy is truly grateful for the relationship she has with her family, otherwise she would be a hermit.

  Sending a group text to her sisters, she asks what they’re up to and as she waits for a response she scrolls through some more headlines about the show, secretly smiling as she reads another positive review claiming her as the next big thing. Opening the article, she brings her stiletto covered feet closer to her body, taking a second to admire the gleaming red patent leather toe cover and ankle straps; a luxurious gift to herself for signing a contract to share space in an exclusive shop in Manhattan and Los Angeles.

  Two years ago, she had done the same with a buyer who promised worldwide recognition if she sold her items in their stores located in Paris, London, Rome, Berlin, Barcelona, and Milan. New York and LA were last on her list, and as she signed her name on the proverbial dotted line three weeks ago, Cassidy had to keep from simultaneously crying and jumping for joy. She had purchased the beloved heels the day her copy of the signed contract arrived.

  All of her dreams were coming true.

  Feeling eyes on her, Cassidy watches as an overly bearded man with a pot belly bigger than her table walks by her booth and manages to both sneer and smirk in her direction, giving what Cassidy coldly refers to as the willies. Tugging the brim of her green camouflage baseball cap farther down on her face she focuses again on the phone in her hand.

  Sydney: Where are you? I see the reviews for your show are great! I’m sorry we couldn’t be there.

  Cassidy: It was such an amazing experience. I’m still in NY finalizing a few things.

  Everleigh: Will you be home next weekend?

  Cassidy: E, you know I can’t go that long without Sunday dinner at Angie’s.

  Sydney: Can’t wait to have you home!

  Cassidy: Love you <3 See y’all in a week.

  Cassidy’s smile reaches past her eyes, she can feel the muscles pulling tightly as the warmth and happiness flows through her body. When they were younger Cassidy and her sisters, though close in age, fought like cats and dogs. It wasn’t until the girls got older that they began to appreciate their family dynamic. All the siblings were close now it seems, well except for Cassidy and her youngest brother Ryker. The two constantly butt heads. Cassidy attributes it to the fact that Ryker acts more like a father than the twenty-one-year-old he is, except when he is on stage.

  Ryker is the lead singer of the chart-topping band Exoneration. Cassidy didn’t know much more than they played music in the rock genre, she is too busy to enjoy listening to music nowadays as it is. Ryker is famous in his own right and finds himself in the tabloids more than their mother cares for, but somehow the press hasn’t discovered that the two were siblings. They don’t resemble each other and both keep their identities close to the vest. Ryker also went by the name Ryker James keeping their last name Connelly hidden in the shadows.

  Everleigh: Bye sis. Congrats again on the show!

  Stretching her smile wider than she could imagine, Cassidy tosses her phone back on the table and glances up to the deep corner of the bar to gaze at the television across the way when her eyes collide with a pair of snug and worn black jeans encasing a pair of strong legs and what Cassidy would call the most magnificent backside she had ever witnessed. Guiding her eyes upwards, her tongue lodges itself on the roof of her mouth as she watches the tight muscles of the mystery man’s back bunch beneath his tight, deep red t-shirt as he lifts a beer bottle to his lips. Cassidy tries to swallow, to do anything to rid her mouth of its present dryness, but nothing works.

  As if feeling eyes on him, the man places his bottle back on the bar counter top and turns around slowly, assessing and appraising each person as he scrutinizes them. Cassidy’s eyes are glued to him, she can do little to tear them away as if they are magnets and he’s the center drawing them in. He’s a force Cassidy is unable to fight against.

  With eyes still pinned to him, she hopes, prays that he passes over her in her small booth as she wills herself to tuck closer into the corner. Her prayers are unanswered as his gaze meets hers and restrains her body. She wants to smile, wants to cry, run away, hide, tuck, any option will do, but instead she sits stock-still held captive by his eyes.

  They stare at each other for seconds, minutes, hours; time is idle. Finally, allowing her to break free from his hold he turns to speak to the waitress just as she walks out of the kitchen holding a basket with what looks like Cassidy’s order.

  Though the lighting is dim, Cassidy can make out the man’s handsome features: strong jawline covered by a hint of stubble, cheekbones most women would kill for, and though he wears a ball cap similar to hers it does little to hide the bright sea green eyes hidden beneath his dark brows and the shadow of the brim. His arms are large, strong, and covered in colorful tattoos she finds herself wanting to explore.

  She watches as he smiles at the waitress and the woman practically fans herself as she hands the basket to him. As he retrieves the food from her grasp, Cassidy isn’t sure, but she assumes he must have winked at the inexperienced woman because a bright blush spreads across the woman’s ashen cheeks bringing some much-needed color to her features. Her eyes duck down and she peers coyly at the man as she nods in agreement.

  As the male embodiment of perfection, in Cassidy’s opinion, turns his body in her direction, she feels her chest tighten and her fingers begin to quiver against her thigh as the inexplicable pull between them strengthens. At first, Cassidy believes the feeling is one-sided, but as he approaches her isolated paradise she notices his steps falter slightly when their gazes meet fully. Unable to explain how, Cassidy feels herself sit up straighter in her spot, her muscles and limbs moving of their own accord, but she never breaks eye contact. Not even when he stands before her and places the basket of hot cheese covered fries on the middle of the table. Not even when he rests his balled-up fists on the edge of the table and leans closer to her body. Not when his masculine scent pierces through the smoke and infiltrates her lungs. Or when he licks his lips showcasing the glint of a barbell punctured through his tongue. No, Cassidy finds herself frozen in place, locked in his stare, her body willing to succumb to his every whim and desire.

  It’s only as his deep and gravelly voice cloaks itself around her tightly, securely, and drifts down her skin in a softness like a rose petal caressing her. Cassidy’s skin erupts in goose bumps and she feels tingling deep in her belly as a moan disguised as a gasp escapes her at his simple yet powerful words.

  “Damn, you are exquisite.”

  ARLAN WANTS NOTHING MORE than to stay in the studio playing his guitar. It is his dream, his passion, and he truly loses himself in the music and riffs. Every note bleeds into his skin until he feels the composition deep within his soul. Music is any and everything to him and no one can convince him otherwise, much to his father’s dismay.

  He formed his band Exoneration when he met Ryker at a gas station in North Carolina as he was traveling through making his way to Nashville, Tennessee. He had heard the guy belting an Avenged Sev
enfold song as he pumped gas and was taken aback by the kid’s talent. They had talked and Ryker agreed to join him on his trip to Nashville with a simple “good luck” from his parents on the phone. Harlan hadn’t told him how jealous he had been that Ryker’s parents were completely on board with their son exploring his talent at the age of seventeen, but you win some and you lose some. Harlan had just lost the parent lottery it seemed.

  In Nashville, they had met up with two guys Harlan had known through his father’s connections and after finding their way through a few jam sessions he knew that it clicked. Ryker was their missing piece. They had played a few local shows and, by the grace of God, they were signed to a deal six months later.

  The past four years had been grueling and the rest of the band wanted, needed, a break, but Harlan didn’t know what to do with idle time. So, he found himself at the studio the last few weeks writing songs and laying down demos for the band when they got together before their upcoming tour.

  This tour is going to be epic and Harlan has a hard time holding in his excitement even though he is supposed to be the member of the band that is calm, cool, and collected. But they are headliners and it is turning out to be everything Harlan had imagined.

  Today, as Harlan lies down the last track for a new song he had written last night he sighs; his time is up. The producer on the opposite side of the glass knocks on the barrier and presses a button as he speaks into a microphone.

  “That was a great song, man. Did you want to add that to the album list for Exoneration when the whole band gets in here next?”

  Harlan takes his guitar and places it in the case by the door, contemplating his next move. The song is a personal one, like many of the songs he writes for the band, but this one is about finding that one person that is the end all – the game changer.